


Black and Ice Blue

by valda



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars: Phasma - Delilah S. Dawson
Genre: Anal Beads, Come Eating, Dildos, Inappropriate Use of the Force, M/M, Phone Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slurs, Vibrators, the robe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 03:27:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12004026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valda/pseuds/valda
Summary: Armitage Hux has called an assembly of officers during a visit to the Star DestroyerAbsolution. In the hours before that, though, he has plans to "rest". After an unwanted interruption, Armitage makes full use of his relaxation time.





	Black and Ice Blue

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place after chapter 32 of the Star Wars novel _Phasma_ by Delilah Dawson. Yes, this is my robefic.

Putting Captain Cardinal’s unfortunate visit out of his mind, Armitage resumes the preparations he’s been making since he first got up this morning. All the details are coming together nicely, but the interruption set him back a bit, and he must hurry to be sure he’s ready in time.

When he’s finished, the requested items stand in a neat line along the silver edge of the low, black table in front of his sofa. Some of them gleam in shimmery metallic or glossy, vibrant color; others rise stoic and strong in matte. One of them, of course, is a bottle. All of the items are within easy view of the holoprojector, which sits at the opposite edge of the table and is pointed at the sofa.

Armitage makes a final pilgrimage to the refresher, untying the sash of his robe and letting the garment fall open. He examines his skin critically, searching for flaws and finding none. Smiling, Armitage trails his fingers along his smooth, white inner thighs, pleased with the work he did earlier this morning to tidy the area. What hair remains has been neatly trimmed back; it sets off his pink cock like a copper crown.

Closing the robe, Armitage reties the sash and leans forward to check that his face is as immaculate as the rest of him. It seems a clump of hair has fallen out of place, which won’t do. He combs and gels it back into place, then carefully trims the very ends of his sideburns, making sure they’re perfectly even. He double-checks his ears, his nose, and his teeth, and then he moves back into the sitting area just as the holoprojector’s incoming call indicator begins to flash. Settling onto the sofa, Armitage crosses his legs at the knee, letting the robe fall open to expose his thigh, and then leans forward to connect the secure line. A chest-up view of Kylo Ren flickers into life over the table, the image remarkably clear given the  _Absolution_ ’s distance from the  _Finalizer_. Unlike Armitage, Ren is fully clothed.

“General,” says Ren, his voice flat and gravelly through the modulator in his mask.

“Ren,” Armitage replies.

“I see everything is in order.”

“As requested.” There is a soft tug near his belly button; Armitage looks down to see the sash untie itself and slither along his waist until it has pulled completely free. He watches with interest as the sash winds itself around his wrist, and then he huffs a bit as it yanks his arm behind his back. Soon his other arm is forced to join it, the sash lashing them tightly together. Armitage tests the strength of the bond and finds it impossible to slip free. He raises his eyes back to Ren.

“I like the robe,” Ren says, and this time Armitage sees his hand as he gestures, willing the garment to slide off Armitage’s shoulders. It settles just above his elbows, falling open to reveal Armitage’s bare chest and hardening nipples. Armitage gasps as Ren’s invisible touch brushes over one of them.

“Yes,” Armitage says, keeping his voice steady, “I thought you might.”

Ren cocks his head to one side, and Armitage can imagine the smirk on his face. But instead of responding verbally, Ren gestures again, and Armitage finds himself sliding down on the sofa, arse slipping slightly over the edge, even as his legs bend up and back of their own volition. (Of Ren’s volition.) Now his knees are practically at his ears, and his hands are trapped in the hollow between the back and seat cushions, and, most importantly, his arse is on full display to Ren.

“Was it troublesome, wearing that all morning?” Ren asks, and Armitage knows he’s not talking about the robe this time.

“Somewhat,” Armitage says, because Ren should know every difficulty he puts Armitage through. “It did get distracting. Especially during a rather significant meeting I had earlier.”

“You weren’t to have any meetings this morning,” Ren says in a crackling growl. “You were not to be disturbed.”

“I’m afraid he was rather insistent,” Armitage says with a small smile.

“Tell me his name.”

“And what will you do with that information, Ren?”

“Kill him, of course.”

Armitage laughs. “You needn’t worry about it. It’s taken care of.”

Ren lets out an irritated huff of air, the sound coming out in a burst of static. He’s quiet for a moment, and then he twitches a finger and the plug in Armitage’s arse twists roughly against his prostate.

Armitage is barely able to hold back a shriek. “Ren,” he growls, and he struggles a little at the hold Ren has on his legs, the tight sash binding his wrists. The robe falls further down his shoulders, but otherwise Armitage finds his restraints unbreakable.

“General,” Ren says, and he crooks his finger, drawing the plug slowly out of Armitage’s hole. Armitage can’t help a gasp as the wide head pushes past the tight ring of muscle.

The plug floats up and away from Armitage’s arse, jet black and sloppy with lube. Armitage watches as it draws closer. “Ren,” he says, squirming a bit at the feeling of lube slipping out of his now too-empty hole, “surely you’re not going to—”

But Ren does. The plug caresses its way up the back of Armitage’s leg, leaving a long trail of lube, then moves in to poke rudely at his cheek. Armitage grimaces a bit at the sensation, and then the plug suddenly forces its way past his lips.

Armitage glares at Ren as the plug lazily fucks his mouth. He is, of course, perfectly clean, and he rather likes the way the plug is pressing hard against his tongue, but it’s the principle of the thing.

Ren chuckles and raises his other hand. One of Armitage’s favorite vibrators rises from the table, the pink one with the external stimulator. His eyes widen; it’s rather early to be going straight to that one.

Despite his trepidation, Armitage can’t help but be mesmerized by the sight of the bottle opening of its own accord and drizzling lube over the length of the vibrator. The Force may not be a particularly practical tool when it comes to winning a war, but it certainly has its uses.

The plug is still fucking into his mouth when the vibrator, not turned on yet, begins to push its way into his arse. Ren doesn’t take his time; fortunately the plug has stretched Armitage enough that the burn is more pleasing than painful. A few hard, deep thrusts, and Ren leaves the vibrator seated inside him, the external wand pressed up tight beneath his balls.

Then it comes on.

Armitage nearly chokes on the plug as his entire body arches up off the sofa, and then he’s shuddering violently, eyes watering, the plug muffling his screams. It’s too much, and it’s all at once; his vision’s gone completely white, and lightning is shooting through the base of his spine, and he might be dying.

Abruptly, the vibrator shuts off, and the plug wrenches itself out of Armitage’s mouth. Armitage gulps air, breath coming ragged, his head and shoulders drooping.

Still panting, he raises his eyes to the flickering image of Ren. Ren is standing there impassively, as though the sight he’d just treated himself to had no effect on him. Armitage licks at his spit-wet lips and is rewarded with what sounds like a choked-off cough.

“Is that all you’ve got?” Armitage says, and then the vibrator comes on again.

This time there’s no plug in his mouth to stifle his cries. He’s practically convulsing, and if Ren weren’t holding him in place he would have fallen to his side by now. As it is, his legs are jerking and twitching where they’re pressed against his shoulders, and his hands are spasming behind his back, and he’s going to come so hard—

The vibrator shuts off again, and now Armitage feels a tightness at the base of his cock, as though there were a ring there. “Not yet,” Ren rumbles, and Armitage falls limp against the Force hold, sucking in air.

His eyes are closed, so it’s a surprise when something cold and wet drags its way across one of his nipples. He jolts to attention, looking down to see that the black plug, wet once again with lube, is flicking back and forth over the hard nub. “Wish that was your mouth,” he murmurs stupidly, and then he snaps his own mouth shut, horrified. But the plug’s motion does not stutter or stop. Hopefully that means Ren didn’t hear.

Ren’s next choice is Armitage’s bright gold anal beads. This toy isn’t as thick as the vibrator, but each bead stimulates the rim as it passes through. Armitage finds himself trembling with want as the toy pumps in and out of him; it’s not anywhere near the overstimulation of the vibrator, and right now it almost doesn’t feel like enough.

The plug moves up to Armitage’s mouth again, hovering in place at his lips. “Suck it,” Ren says, low and commanding. “Show me what you can do.”

Armitage laps at the head of the toy, then stretches forward to lick along it. He finds he is able to move just enough to reach the full length of the plug; leaning back toward the tip, he opens his mouth and takes the whole thing in, slowly, feathering his tongue and sucking along it. He’s not sure how much of this Ren can actually sense, but Armitage Hux has never been one to do anything halfway.

Alternating between fucking his mouth onto the plug and sucking and licking at the tip, Armitage falls into an almost mindless rhythm. His eyes slip closed. He imagines what he must look like to Ren: hands tied behind his back; robe fallen uselessly away from his shoulders and around his hips, covering nothing; mouth working to pleasure one phallus while another has its way with his arse. “My perfect slut,” Ren says, and Armitage is so preoccupied by the way Ren’s words so perfectly answer his thoughts that he almost misses the word  _my_.

The beads slip out of Armitage with a distinct  _pop_ , and the plug floats away from Armitage’s mouth. He leans forward unthinkingly, chasing it with his lips and tongue, as his arse clenches around nothing. For a moment nothing happens. That pressure is still there around the base of his cock, and his legs are still trapped up near his ears, and he flexes his hands against his bonds and watches Ren, waiting.

Then Ren lifts a hand, and Armitage begins rising completely off the couch. He bites back a shriek. Ren has him, truly has him. He is completely under Ren’s control. Ren is manipulating his body as if he were a doll.

Blood is roaring in his ears, and his skin is tingling, and he tries to fight the giddy grin but ultimately can’t keep it off his face.

Ren turns Armitage and arranges him on his knees sideways on the sofa, his face pressed into the cushion. The robe has fallen down to cover his arse, but it soon slinks its way up Armitage’s thighs, then over the modest swell. It gathers at his lower back, where his hands are still bound behind him, leaving his arse exposed once again. Armitage feels his knees being spread apart. He turns his face against the cushion to try and see Ren, see what he’s doing, but his hair falls into his eyes.

A sudden, stinging pain has Armitage jerking in place with a loud, surprised moan; he only realizes where it came from when it happens again, on the opposite cheek this time. Face down, arse up, Armitage Hux is being spanked.

His erect cock bobs forward with every blow, sometimes bouncing up against his stomach. His balls are so tight he can barely think straight. Ren paddles Armitage again and again until his arse is singing with heat. The corners of Armitage’s eyes are wet—a natural reaction, of course—and his legs are shaking. Ren must be holding him up, because he feels sure he should be collapsing. The paddle moves away, and then Armitage feels something new pressing against his hole. Judging from the shape of it, it must be the large red dildo Armitage uses to prep for Ren’s cock.

He’s proven right when the toy begins pressing inside, stretching him far beyond what the anal beads and vibrator had managed. He hears himself let out a sound that is embarrassingly like a wail as the thickest part forces its way through.

When the dildo is fully seated, Armitage attempts to slide back off it so he can fuck himself with it, but Ren has frozen him in place.

“What do you want?” Ren asks.

“Fuck me,” Armitage demands. “I want it to hurt.”

“No,” Ren says, and the dildo twists a little inside him. “What do you want?”

The correct answer is obvious; Armitage can only blame his lapse on the post-spanking haze. “Your cock,” he says.

The dildo slowly slides out of him, sending a shudder through his entire body. It pulls out completely, the tip resting teasingly against his rim. “Beg,” Ren says.

“Ren,” Armitage complains, squirming against the Force hold.

“Beg,” Ren says again.

“Damn it, Ren, you know you want to fuck me, just fuck me,” Armitage hisses.

“Beg.” The dildo nudges at his hole but does not push inside.

It would be just like Ren to keep this up until time for the assembly. Or even past that. Armitage imagines Ren holding him here, just like this, teasing him and demanding that he beg, while his fellow officers wait and wait.

His painfully hard cock gives a violent twitch; those officers serve at his pleasure, and if he wanted to, he could make them wait all day.

“Beg,” Ren says again, harsher this time, and Armitage considers that Ren’s options also include choking him. While that might be fun, he doesn’t need the questions those bruises would invite.

“Ren,” he says, and even though he knows what to say, even though it’s just a few simple words, it is a struggle to get it out. “Please give me your cock. Please.”

The dildo slams back into him without preamble, punching the air out of him in a shout. And then he’s being fucked just the way he likes, hard and fast and deep. The burn is terrible and wonderful, and then the angle shifts and it’s hitting him  _just right_ —

The pressure at the base of Armitage’s cock is suddenly gone, and he’s coming almost before he realizes it, balls emptying across ice-blue fabric, legs shaking, face mashed into the seat cushion as he shudders and groans.

Coming back to himself is like groping through fog. Armitage fights to regain his senses before Ren ends the call. Once Ren has brought Armitage to climax, there’s no particular need for them to talk, and Ren likely has preparations of his own to make before holocalling the assembly. Armitage wants to make sure Ren remembers to free his hands before he disconnects.

“Help me sit up,” he manages to say, and Ren does, depositing him in a more standard position on the sofa. Armitage winces and shifts onto his hip as much as he can. “Now untie me,” he says. Ren has his arms crossed, as though he has better things to do. He’s still fully clothed, helmet, robes, cowl and all. Ren never pleasures himself on these calls, and he claims he doesn’t masturbate after them. He’s probably telling the truth, if the amount of spunk he produces during reunion fucks is any clue. “Hurry up,” Armitage snaps, shaking the haze from his head. “There isn’t much time left before the assembly.”

“You’ve made a mess,” Ren says. Armitage feels pressure against the back of his head, nudging it down toward the couch cushion. “Clean it up.”

Armitage rolls his eyes. “It had best not stain,” he says, and then he bends shakily down, arms still tied, and licks up his own seed.

“Well done, General,” Ren says as Armitage straightens, his voice as toneless as always. “I’ll see you at the assembly.”

“ _Ren_ ,” Armitage says quickly, twisting around to show Ren that he’s still tied up…but the hologram flickers and disappears.

For a moment, Armitage can hardly believe Ren’s done this, left him tied up half naked right before an assembly. Then the sash suddenly snaps in two, and his hands are free.

Armitage rubs at his wrists. “You,” he scowls at the holoprojector, “are a bantha’s arse.” He picks up the two halves of his sash, gazing unhappily at the torn, frayed ends. “And you’re buying me a new robe.”


End file.
